


The clock struck midnight too soon, and I lost my Cinderella

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Calvin - Freeform, Car Accident, Death, F/M, How Do I Tag, I feel absolutely NO SYMPATHY FOR CALI, I'm Sorry, No Fluff, Sad, THIS IS PAYBACK, Wedding day gone bad, dude this is sad, goddamn, this sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin and Cali are the happiest soon-to-be-married couple that anyone at the Rooster Teeth office had ever seen. It was practically sickening. On their wedding day, Cali's late, uncharacteristically so. And she just.. doesn't show up. Chaos ensues, and the day that should've been Gavin's happiest quickly turns into his own living nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The clock struck midnight too soon, and I lost my Cinderella

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calimaslinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calimaslinson/gifts).



 

> Michael sighed quietly, reaching out with one hand as he used the other to insert his keys and start the ignition. Easing the man back against his seat, he said delicately, "Gavin, buddy, it's going to be okay." But his words didn't seem very reassuring to either of them.

 

Cali was late. She was _never_ late for anything at all, at least nothing that Gavin could ever recall. She was always on time, always so fucking punctual, even to the little things that didn't matter; doctor's appointments, dates, to pick up their little munchkin kitten Tux from getting his claws filed down, she was always on time.

 

So when she didn't show up to the church for their wedding ceremony within the time she'd allotted herself to get ready at the venue, something struck Gavin as odd. It was so unlike her, especially without calling. If there was even the slightest possibility that she would be late, she'd have rang his cell. The Brit kept sneaking furtive glances at his phone, seeing if he'd somehow missed a text or a call or anything. But no. All that stared back at him was his lockscreen picture of her, her sleepy morning face and rumpled hair soothing his ragged nerves the slightest bit. Michael, his best man, glanced over briefly and snorted, rolling his eyes. "Gav, you fuck, did you check your phone again?" he teased lightly, causing Gavin's cheeks to light aflame in embarrassment, rosy pink. "She'll be here, alright? She probably just hit some traffic or something. I mean, you know how shitty women can be with their timing and whatnot."

 

"Yeah, but Cali isn't like the other women you know, Michael," Gavin quickly shot back, but he let the subject go for the most part. The thoughts, worries, concerns, they lingered in the back of his mind. On the stove of his brain, the boiling pots to the front were the thoughts of seeing his beloved girl in her wedding dress, finally putting the beautiful, diamond-encrusted platinum band on her ring finger, just above her engagement ring that had adorned her hand for over a year now. But on the back burner, steadily simmering away, were the saucepans full of alarm. _Where was Cali, oh god, did she rethink getting married to me, nobody wants to stay with me, I'm a bloody idiot what if she fucking left me oh god oh god._ His mind raced on and on as the clock ticked forward, the minute hand trailing slowly around.

 

Time trickled away, at a snail's pace. Mere minutes turned into quickly changing intervals of ten; twenty, thirty, forty. When it hit fifty, Gavin truly began to panic. An hour after she was set to get there, he grabbed Michael's arm. "Michael," he began, desperation clear in his tone. "Something isn't right. Cali would've called me if she hit traffic. This isn't bloody like her, and you know that for a fact. What if something happened?"

 

"You worry too much," the American remarked, trying to appear like his comment was offhand, joking. But deep in his eyes, his voice, Gavin could hear and see a twinge of the nearly cataclysmic emotions coursing through him. Michael took Gavin's hand, practically dragging him out to his car. "Come on. We'll go look around a bit, see if we run into her car. Okay?" Gavin nodded numbly, wordlessly, loading himself into the car. Slamming his door shut, he buckled up with trembling fingers and gouged his nails into the dash, leaving neat rows of half-moon crescent marks in the leather-feeling exterior. Michael sighed quietly, reaching out with one hand as he used the other to insert his keys and start the ignition. Easing the man back against his seat, he said delicately, "Gavin, buddy, it's going to be okay." But his words didn't seem very reassuring to either of them.

 

When the sirens came roaring by, an ambulance and a firetruck, Gavin felt the growing knot in his stomach practically explode. Heart hammering hard against his breastbone, the beating rhythm thrumming in his temples, he heard a voice not like his own command monotonously, "Michael, follow them." Nausea ate away at his stomach, the sharp, bitter taste of bile reaching the back of his taste buds, dominating his tongue as his stomach flip-flopped. A growing sense of dread, of horror, took place of the knot of anxiety and worry. Somewhere, deep down in his core, he knew that those emergency service vehicles weren't just responding to any emergency..

 

So when he saw the flaming remains of the car that had graced his driveway for so long, the one that his life partner had driven to work, to school, to visit him, a part of him wasn't surprised. He felt it in his bones, his heart, his soul; he knew that a part of him was missing from the world. Clamping his hands tightly over his mouth, Gavin begged breathily, voice muffled, "M'chael, pull over." As soon as the car lurched to a stop, he threw the car door open and puked. The seatbelt threatened to lock as he strained against it, craning as far away from the car as he could, managing to not get any on his suit. He gagged and retched and dry heaved as his insides seemingly tried their best to abandon his body because _dammit, that was his baby girl's car burning, where the fuck was she, did she get out, was she okay_ and he looked up, face crumpling as he saw Michael approaching him.

 

He'd just gotten done talking to one of the firefighters, and his eyes looked.. hollow. His face was pale, devoid of any color, completely and utterly alabaster and translucent looking as he shook his head, especially against his fine-fitted charcoal black suit. Eyes meeting Gavin's, he took long strides over to the man and unbuckled the seatbelt, hauling him up and into his arms. He didn't care about the lingering smell of vomit, or the fact that they were mere inches away from the stinking pile of where his friend had just spilled his guts in the dry grass. Michael held onto the man, squeezing him gently, rocking them back and forth, swaying ever-so-slightly as he chanted condolences like, "I'm so sorry, Gavin," or "Neither of you deserved this."

 

They seemed to reach Gavin through the water he felt like he was drowning in, being crushed by the pressure under the surface. Gasping between heartwrenching sobs that burst from him out of nowhere, the man practically screamed, "THAT ISN'T POSSIBLE! THAT ISN'T CALI!" to which Michael responded tenderly each time, "Gavin, shh, I'm so sorry. It's her." Struggling for breath, the man pulled away, cheeks not so much damp with tears as they were completely slick and wet. "N-Not my Cinderella.." he choked out, eyes wide, jaw clenched. He never fucking cried but the love of his goddamn life was somewhere in the burning mangled wreck of iron that was her car and fuck, the tears wouldn't stop and he could barely breathe as he keened. "She.. She didn't get to dance at her ball yet. That can't be her Michael.. I need to marry her still.. _Cali Free was my promise to her, dammit, she has to have my last name._ "

 

* * *

 

 

And, in a way, Gavin did get to keep his promise. With Michael and Geoff and Griffon keeping him upright at the service, he got to bury his fiance as Cali Free. Her tombstone was plain, black stone with silver letters engraved into the surface. In the casket-- which Gavin couldn't have beared or been able to ever look in-- were a few things: Gavin's favorite jumper that the girl often stole and wore around the house, especially when he was away for business. He couldn't imagine her spending her time in her eternal resting place without it. His old black Moleskin journal, which he often filled with little musing about her. She took it every now and then and glanced over them, giggling and teasingly calling him her little mushy cookiepoo. And finally, the very dress she was set to wear on that fateful day, the ivory mermaid style one that he would forever wonder about how beautiful she would've looked in it.

 

Long after the dirt, damp from rainfall a few hours before the memorial, had been packed over the grave and stamped into place, Gavin knelt and set a fresh bouquet of blood red roses on the site and looked up at the sky. It was now cloudless, azure, the sun shining brightly as the slightest iridescent shimmer of a rainbow graced it. Managing a soft smile, he stood up straight on his own, gazing up at the sky in wonder. Voice featherlight as the breeze running through his hair, he asked, "Is this your sign, Cali? That you've made it to heaven? ..thank you. That's all I could've asked from you. Now please, leave me a spot next to you, and don't stop smiling. I'll be okay."

 

"I'll see you again someday. I'll never forget you."


End file.
